


swear in days still left

by sleepinnude



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Harry Potter AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Puck can’t even explain how he fell for a Hufflepuff. Seriously. What the fuck even is a Hufflepuff? And Sam motherfucking Evans of all the Hufflepuffs. With his goofy fucking hair and his too-wide smile and the casual way he leans with his hands in his pockets and the soft color his eyes get in the night and the easy way his fingers brush over skin…"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. of corridors

Puck can’t even explain how he fell for a Hufflepuff. Seriously. What the fuck even is a Hufflepuff? And Sam motherfucking Evans of all the Hufflepuffs. With his goofy fucking hair and his too-wide smile and the casual way he leans with his hands in his pockets and the soft color his eyes get in the night and the easy way his fingers brush over skin…

Fuck.

And it wasn’t always…what it is. They started out as just friendly rivals: exchanging jibes in the halls and jokes in class. They weren’t really on each other’s radar though really. They had best friends that weren’t each other. Puck had a new girl every week about and Sam had a new one every few months. They traveled in separate circles and only brushed each other on the fringes of their lives.

Until they were on each other’s radar; smack in the center of it with blinking lights and all. Until Sam stumbled upon Puck having a smoke over the edge of the Clock Tower one night. He climbed up and looked all surprised like he wasn’t the one crashing in on Puck. It faded to an easy smile soon enough though and then those damn hands were in his pockets and he was saying, “S’up, Puckerman?” rocking on his feet.

Puck just blew his smoke out to drift over the grounds and watched him a moment. And, when Sam moved closer and leaned against the railing near Puck, asked, “What’re you doing up here?”

Sam blushed and ducked his head and sort of smiled before answering, “I like to see the stars.”

Instead of making fun of him for that, Puck just smirked around his cigarette and worked on perfecting his smoke-rings. They shared the night in silence until they both moved at the same time for the stairs. They swapped “Goodnight”s and wandered off to their respective Common Rooms and Dormitories.

And maybe when they were on the pitch a couple days later and Sam ducked out of the way of a Bludger from Puck at the very last second, Puck would call out to him “Too busy looking for the stars, Evans?” And Sam might have grinned and laughed before flipping him off and catching the Quaffle from one of his teammates.

They end up sharing the Tower a lot. Puck doesn’t go up there every night but he starts making the climb more frequently. He tells himself it’s because he really wants to figure out smoke-rings in different shapes, like that asshole Slytherin, Jesse can do. He learns that the reason he hadn’t seen Sam in the Tower before was that he had been sneaking into the Astronomy Tower before but had gotten caught. Puck is sort of okay with his relocation.

And if you asked when the shift from “almost-friends” to “something more” occurred, Puck would tell you that it was definitely and completely Sam’s fault. It was definitely his fault for leaning close that one night and poking a finger through Puck’s smoke-rings, so their shoulders brushed. It was definitely his fault for not falling away when the cigarette was down to only its filter and they were both doing nothing more than gazing out over the courtyard. It was definitely his fault for turning his head and catching Puck’s gaze and tilting his head and pitching forward… But maybe it was a little bit of Puck’s fault for whatever Sam saw in his eyes. And maybe it was a little bit of Puck’s fault for being the one to actually close the bare inch between their lips at the last minute. And maybe it was a little bit of Puck’s fault for inhaling the way he did and slamming Sam’s back against one of the beams and pressing their hips together and fisting at his shoulders.

Okay, and thinking about it, it was definitely Puck’s fault that things continued as they did. Because when Sam saw him in class the next day, he blushed and looked down and his grip tightened on the strap of his bag. And Puck waited until class was over and darted out ahead so that he could be ready and waiting in that little side alcove when Sam walked by. So that he could reach out easily and tug the other boy in and fix him against the wall and set deep into his mouth.

They both end up missing lunch that day but it’s worth it to make Sam give those little gasps, fingers digging into the back of Puck’s vest. To see the way his cheeks blotch over with blush and hear the way he stammers after they break apart. It’s worth it to establish this routine of making out in corners and giving airy laughs and exploring bits of skin through hands sneaking under jumpers and vests, untucking shirts. This routine of late-night trysts in the Clock Tower, where Puck finally learns how to do the smoke-rings in different shapes and Sam finally learns how to make Puck come without touching his cock.

It’s this gradual thing that grows to consume more and more of their everyday life. Puck starts looking forward to the time before and after the sex just as much as the sex. More of their moments in the corners of corridors end up as slow, heart-breakingly affectionate series of kisses where hands don’t stray much further than shoulders or waists or hair and there are frequent breaks for Sam to just bury his face into Puck’s neck, for Puck to press his forehead to Sam’s and breath out a “Sammy…”

It’s not until Puck has Sam locked up against a wall in the Quidditch changing room that he realizes this might be becoming something more than a casual fuck. Because one of his hands is wound in Sam’s hair and the other is tucking fingers beneath the waist of his pants and Sam is grabbing onto his hips but they’re both smiling these bright smiles and their noses are brushing and their eyes are set on each other and Sam’s making some taunt about the scrimmage and how he wonders if Puck ever learned how to properly fly at all. His lips are brushing soft over Puck’s cheek and trailing back to suck open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and behind his ear and over his neck. Neither of them are wearing shirts and Puck’s hand dances lower to cup over Sam’s cock beneath the layers, skin on skin.

They’re laughing and teasing and smiling and touching soft and light and Puck fucking rubs his nose along Sam’s and that all would be enough but there’s also the twist that comes low in Puck’s stomach. There’s the way his breathing gives out when Sam finally spins them around and hefts Puck up a little. There’s the moment their eyes meet with Sam’s lips parted and Puck already moving in to suck a kiss from them and Sam’s eyes sort of roll up and then they both come with a shout. There’s the way Sam actually goddamn nuzzles into the spot behind Puck’s ear once they’ve finished and the way Puck lets him. The way he actually even enjoys it. There’s the blush over both their cheeks and noses when they finally emerge from the room, cleaned up and put together, and the smiles they both wear.

There’s the fact that it isn’t the first time it’s happened and it’s not likely to be the last.


	2. of battlefields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sam can taste the desperation on Puck’s tongue, winding his body tight. Desperation not so much for kiss and touch and hips, but just for Sam. For anything normal, anything comforting, anything not the utter disaster their life has become."

Things are… wrong, to say the least, when they come back the next year. Not between him and Sammy, no. That seems to be the only thing not entirely fucked up. Because their friends’ families have been dying and their friends have been disappearing from school; either by their parents’ decision or the outside forces. And Puck has always been one to say fuck the goddamn establishment but even he’s keeping his head low.

Nothing is the way it should be. Not even him and Sam but, in the only spot of light, that’s actually better. Because he and Sam were never meant to share a bed. He and Sam were never meant to spend all night together staring at the sky and doing nothing more. He and Sam were never meant to kiss each other and just inhale each other. He and Sam were never meant to hold hands tights, to wipe tears, to soothe away bad dreams, to do any and all the things they seem to be doing with a frightening frequency.

It starts to get so that Puck can’t swallow his day without Sam to help it along. They find themselves walking together through halls, head bent close together. They find each other in every spare moment. They find careful excuses to be in the Clock Tower until the sun is rising again. They find their way into each other’s beds, into each other’s arms even more often.

They never discuss it, just silently gravitate closer and closer, deeper into each other’s fields. They don’t talk about the changes, either. They don’t talk about why they’ve changed; they don’t talk about that one night in the Tower where they had just been sitting next to each other like it was any other night and then Puck’s shoulders had started to hitch a bit and then he turned his head because maybe his eyes were a little red but he didn’t want Sam to see that. They don’t talk about how Sam had just slipped his hand into Puck’s and how they watched the night sink into morning.

They’re pressing into each other, riding the waves of their bodies. Puck’s against the wall this time, Sam hunching his shoulders to crowd in on the other boy. Puck’s hands are tightening over Sam’s waist, rocking up to feed deeper into their kiss. Sam’s fingers twitch over the stones where his hands are braced on either side of Puck’s head.

Sam can taste the desperation on Puck’s tongue, winding his body tight. Desperation not so much for kiss and touch and hips, but just for Sam. For anything normal, anything comforting, anything not the utter disaster their life has become. And, as Sam opens his eyes at the way Puck’s lips trail up his neck, he sees just what a disaster their life has become.

Hell breaks loose.

Sam and Puck rock apart and they’re both swearing at the way their world falls apart within a few minutes. They rush outside together and then the stop once they hit the grounds because they’re just fucking floored. The air is alive with spells and curses and people are scattered everywhere and Sam can’t believe that any of this is happening. He looks to Puck for some sort of explanation and he sees Puck wearing that smirk. That fucking smirk. The same one he always gets when he’s about to do something irrevocably stupid (Like that time he flew off the Quidditch pitch and up to the window Sam was sitting in to hang by his knees and make Sam laugh because he knew he was having a bad day. And Sam almost had a fucking heart attack but fuck if he didn’t laugh and smile.).

Sam is proved right when Puck pulls Sam to him for this fierce, burning kiss that Sam sways into and then mutters against his lips, “No more waiting.” Sam doesn’t know if he’s talking about the fighting or the “them” that’s been pretty ephemeral until now but he doesn’t get the chance to ask for a clarification because Puck has issued a battlecry and dashed off.

Sam laughs, of all things, and calls a whoop after him. There’s a group of second years staring at him,fright from the battle interrupted by shock from the kiss they just saw and Sam laughs against because…because Puck and then he dashes off into the blaze with everyone else.

And it’s only been something like five minutes when Puck looks up and catches a flash of Sam’s goofy fucking hair. He stupidly assumed that Sam would just sit on the sidelines because he’s a Hufflepuff and Puck’s constantly underestimating Hufflepuffs, forgetting that loyalty is a huge thing for them, so Sam might not be Gryffindor but he’s still not going to just sit by and watch his school down in flames. So of course Sammy’s fighting. But all he really registers is Sam and the fucking terror that infects his entire system and he shouts “Sammy!” voice raw with fear and something else.

Sam looks over his shoulder and catches Puck’s face and has to grin. But then the grin fades and washes out because he can see behind Puck. He can barely scream out a “No, Puck!” before the bolt of acid green is colliding directly with the middle of Puck’s back and Puck is falling, falling.

He never hits the ground. Because Sam skids across the grass and catches him, falls to the charred grass with him and cradles him to his chest and starts to cry, stroke over Puck’s cheeks and his stupid Mohawk and the now-slack jaw. Then… Then he runs a violent wrist over his running nose and redding eyes and stands with something awful striking through his eyes. His cheeks are flushed and he starts fighting; he starts whipping spells with even more fervor than before. He’s not just fighting for Hogwarts anymore; he’s also fighting for the man he loved.


End file.
